I (Don't) Need You
by TMBlue
Summary: COMPLETE! Mid-DH. Semi-AU. The heightened effects of the horcrux locket on Ron surface in increasingly unsettling ways.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Uh, where to start... This thing came from a conversation with a few Tumblr buddies, wherein the words "angry sex" and "horcrux hunt" kind of... were part of the same paragraph. I realize that's borderline insane, and my attempt to spit out what I imagined that to be got quite, quite dark. Maybe the darkest thing I've written. But there will be a part two, in case you feel like shit when you get to the end... _

_I also just want to say that in no way should you take these words and Ron's actions as me thinking he's a bastard. He's not. He's the best. He's my favorite. He's beautiful. The locket is a son of a bitch. And this is pretty much AU, so... enjoy if you can, escape now if you feel apprehension. Be gentle? Unlike Ron... and kind of Hermione... *clears throat*_

 _Oh, one last thing - shout out / thanks to **callieskye** for "midges."_

* * *

 **I (Don't) Need You  
 _Part One_**

His trousers were soaked to the knees. How long had he been following them, through the weeds?

A cool drizzle misted the air, had done for hours, surely. His stomach grumbled. He thought of his brothers, his mum, his dad, his sister... shoved them away, far away.

Chewed fingernails clawed at his neck as he scratched a patch of midge bites raw. His boots squelched in the mud, and the locket was heavy, metal held separate from the skin of his chest by threadbare cotton.

The monochrome gray sky reflected in a pool of clear water as they reached a tree line, his sodden hair plastered to his forehead, tufts behind his ears. He hadn't noticed her slowing down, syncing her pace with his as Harry led them toward a winding, overgrown path.

"You should give it to me now," she said in a small voice. Damn her voice... like he could break, like he was fragile.

"M'fine," he said too roughly, regretting his tone as her forehead creased, looking away from him.

"Oi," Harry called over his shoulder, "up here."

Their noisy footsteps on crunchy leaves and branches filled the space he could have used to say more. A part of him was glad. Another part couldn't watch her jumper ride up anymore as she climbed through brambles, patches of silk-smooth skin-

"Ron, c'mon," Harry gestured, coaxing him out into a hidden clearing as Hermione dropped her bag, circling the perimeter.

Damn Harry, too.

He tried to clear the cobwebs from his mind, helping Harry with the tent. _Who_ was he blaming, really?

Hermione finished the wards before they'd got the tent done, so she crouched and started a small fire, charming the smoke from traveling into the trees overhead. Ron trudged to the edge, retrieving her bag for her where she'd left it, and he returned to tower over her hunched form, extending his hand as she looked up. Her eyes watered as she reached to take it from him.

"Thanks," she mouthed, and was he imagining her lingering touch against his hand?

A gust of cold air blew through their space, and his hair whipped across his face, returning his attention to Harry.

"I'll find dinner," Ron said, but Harry halted him with a hand to his forearm.

"Locket."

His odd hesitation to comply began to dissipate as he felt Hermione stand behind him, eyes on the back of his head. He nodded once and removed it, looping the chain over Harry's outstretched hand.

* * *

His bunk was cold, the fire had died, Harry was taking watch outside. Their canvas walls swayed like the hull of a ship, and he reckoned the rain would never stop.

She was reading by lantern light, back toward him, on the sofa. She tapped her foot anxiously against the leg of the table in front of her, and he saw that ruddy chain as she swiped her hair away from her neck, over her shoulder, sniffing. She'd had it too long.

He slid out of bed, ignoring his low-riding pyjamas, foregoing a shirt. He shivered, on cue, rationalising he was underdressed... he should find her bag and his jumper. But he was too close, viewing a text of heavy black ink on tea-stained pages, frayed at the edges, over her shoulder.

She sucked in a breath as his fingers touched the back of her neck.

"Shouldn't read that dark magic rubbish with it on."

She turned to glance up at him.

" _You_ shouldn't sleep with it. Harry-"

"-needs a break."

She couldn't argue further, or she lacked the energy. She closed her eyes, and he moved around the sofa to face her properly.

"Don't think I care?" he challenged her, a furrowed brow angling up from her tired face in response. "Harry's watching, you're reading, I'm taking the bloody horcrux."

Her eyes suddenly flicked down his half-naked body, her lips parted... as if seeing him for the first time just then. He recognised this look from a deep concentration on her work, interrupted. Nothing more. Couldn't be.

"Hermione-"

She stood abruptly, cutting down his next words as she reached for the chain around her neck, tugging it over her bushel of tangled hair, a shaky hand offering it to him.

"I should get you a jumper. You'll catch cold," she said, as he took the locket and slipped it over his own head.

A cloud lifted, strangely. He could see the dark circles under her eyes more clearly, the way she didn't quite meet his gaze.

"M'fine," he said hoarsely, turning back toward his bed, climbing in and settling on his side, away from her.

But he could hear the tick, tick, tick of his watch, and it mesmerised his softly dying sensitivity. He flipped to his back, seeking her image in the lantern glow.

She was still standing, facing away from him, and he convinced himself he couldn't hear her crying.

* * *

"Ron, shh."

He'd woken to a chill, mumbling something he couldn't recall. She was sitting on the edge of his bunk, in velvet dark. He could just barely make out her eyes as she reached for his injured arm, carefully sliding the thin cotton band serving as a sling off his shoulder.

"I have to check it."

He turned toward her, automatic in his half-asleep state. She smiled and touched his skin so gently that his eyes fluttered shut again, despite the locket.

The locket.

He opened his eyes quickly and reached up with his good arm to feel the metal against his chest, directly.

"Don't like it on your skin," she whispered, eyes completely averted now, on the pretense of checking his splinched shoulder, peeling back his bandage.

"Help me with a shirt?"

She sniffed, nodded, and wrapped a new piece of cotton around his injury, methodically. Once done, she reached overhead to tug down a plain white shirt, hanging off the top bunk.

He sat up halfway, stomach concaving as he pushed his weight to his good elbow.

 _He didn't really need her help_ , a little voice faded in at the back of his mind. He was taking advantage of everything.

But she bunched thin cotton in her fists and gestured for him to duck his head through the neck hole. Static attacked his shaggy hair, sending it spiking at random angles as he emerged. Sitting the rest of the way up, he slipped his good arm easily through the right side, shifting his left shoulder as she silently held his wrist and guided his other arm through. She helped him with the narrow sling again, finding a relatively comfortable position.

"Cheers," he said through an exhale, as he lowered himself to his back again.

She reached without explanation, for the locket. Out of deeply buried instinct, he snatched her wrist, startling her to gasp and flick her eyes to his.

"I was just moving it for you…" she began in a shaky voice.

His heart was beating much too close to the locket, and he released her, understanding and trying to look as apologetic as he could in the dark, without speaking.

Eyes still holding his gaze, she lifted both hands to his shirt collar, tugging the chain out from between cotton and goosefleshed skin.

"You can go back to sleep now," she said softly, moving to stand, but he grabbed her forearm, his long fingers wrapping around the wool of her jumper sleeve.

He realised, immediately, that he had nothing to say. But she stared back at him, not asking for an explanation.

"Hermione?" Harry's distant voice called out for her, and she slipped her arm from Ron's loosening grip.

"What is it?" she called back, heading for the tent flat without looking back.

* * *

 _She doesn't need you. They… don't need you._

 _Worthless._

 _Worthless._

 _Worthl-_

* * *

She'd been watching him as he moved in his sleep. A subtle shake of his head against his pillows, and she suspected bad dreams. She'd had them, too. Too often.

From her bunk, she could see his face, upside down. She'd moved her pillow to the end closest to his head, lying on her stomach, propped on her elbows.

His lips parted, his arm twitched, he rolled his head to the side.

She held her breath, a garbled word exhaled from him.

"Wrthlss."

She narrowed her eyes, unable to understand. But she only needed to know one thing - it had been _too long_. Sod him. She was taking control.

She slid out of bed and moved to hover over him, deep and lost in uncomfortable sleep.

"Just _try_ to stop me…" she whispered, fingertips feather light on his neck as she twisted the chain so slowly, looking for the clasp. Finding it, she unhooked it, feeling him move. His hand clenched halfway into a fist… before relaxing.

She tugged the unfastened chain out from behind him, snatching the locket in her palm and closing her fingers around it.

* * *

 _Worthl-_

 _He was suddenly standing in a large, open field, alone. The sun was shining brilliantly, lighting his copper hair on fire._

 _His feet were bare, warm grass blowing against his toes and shins._

 _His pulse was slowing down, vision fading to pleasant amber…_

 _Eyes. Someone's eyes. Watching him._

 _He blinked and found her, corkscrews of curls around her face, draped over her shoulders… the only beckoning image now in a sea of rolling clouds._

* * *

He woke to post-dawn light striking his eyes through the open tent flap. He could hear Harry and Hermione speaking softly outside. The locket-

-was missing.

He sat up quickly, haze of sleep receding as he shuffled out of bed, heading toward her voice.

"Ermynee," he called as he stepped into harsh light. The storm had stopped… for now.

She was sitting on a rock, holding a mug of tea, steam still swirling from the amber liquid as she glanced up over her shoulder at him.

 _Amber eyes._

"You alright?" Harry asked him, turning to face him, too. Sitting close to her… _close_.

"Yeah, where's the locket?"

Hermione touched her chest at the centre and he saw it, gleaming up at him.

"When'd you-"

"While you were sleeping. It was giving you bad dreams."

"How do you know?"

She shrugged, self-conscious.

"I could tell."

Words of gratitude tried to surface - she wanted to help - but Harry stood before he could get them out.

"We should move again, tomorrow," Harry suggested, brushing his hands down the thighs of his jeans as he straightened up.

He moved to pass Ron and go back inside, but Ron followed with a long stride, clutching Harry's elbow. Hermione turned her back to them, sipping her tea. Ron leaned in close to Harry's ear…

"She needs to sleep. She's wearing it too much."

"Says the same about you," Harry whispered back, directing Ron deeper into the tent, fully out of Hermione's earshot.

" _She's_ the one sorting what the hell we're doing. She's stretched too fucking thin up all night reading, worrying about us…"

"She thinks she's fine."

Ron almost rolled his eyes.

"Bollocks. Harry, honestly… you don't notice like I do."

"Cheers."

"S'not your fault, exactly… but we've gotta get it off her."

"Good luck. She wouldn't let me have it this morning."

He sighed, frustrated.

"What the hell am I even for then if I can't wear a fucking necklace while she saves our arses?"

"You've got loads of-"

"Here." Hermione's hand shot into his line of vision, chain dangling from her fingers.

He winced, shocked at her proximity. But he took the locket quickly, before she could change her mind.

"I'll make breakfast," she said, disappearing through the tent toward the tiny kitchen.

Harry raised an eyebrow up at Ron.

"That went well," Harry said hopefully, as Ron slid the long chain over his head.

"Yeah… maybe…"

He considered her carefully, quickly tumbling down a familiar, swirling tunnel of doubt.

* * *

He'd worn the bloody thing all day. Thunder crashed overhead, and Harry had charmed his glasses to keep from getting them wet as he moved toward the tent flap.

"Hermione," he called out, as she stooped to retrieve her pyjamas from her bag, "I've got first watch."

"I'm on second, Harry," she called back, as Harry slipped outside, lightning illuminating the gray clearing beyond.

"Oh, that's alright," Ron started, a bit spitefully, "just don't bloody wake me up at breakfast 'cause you _forgot_ to switch with me."

She straightened up sharply, surprising him with her glare.

"What do you _want_ , Ron? I gave you the damn horcrux! You've got a bloody splinched arm!"

"What's that matter?"

She groaned with sheer frustration.

"Don't you get it?!"

Eyes darting to the tent flap, she snatched her wand from her bunk and waved it furiously toward the slight opening, sealing it and silencing them from Harry.

"I'm trying so hard to make it alright, to get you home, I-"

"Get _me_ home? I'm not fucking lost! I came out here by choice, same as you!"

Her lip quivered, and he hesitated, rage flowing freely but a small wall erected to keep it from tumbling over the absolute edge.

"You were shivering, in your sleep! You could have a fever, infection… your arm looked alright last night, but I- I can't lose _you_ , and Harry, too! We might all die out here, but yes, I'm selfish. I _want_ to go first. I won't make it w-without you."

"That's a load of rubbish! We thought Dumbledore told Harry exactly what to do. Well, he didn't. He gave you a bleeding children's book and let us fend for ourselves. He willed it to you 'cause he knew you'd sort it out while I was pratting around and Harry was brooding over his bloody scar."

"That's not fair, to either of you."

She twisted the shirt and pyjama trousers she was holding in her delicate hands.

"I really don't give a shit about fair," Ron continued, voice low and distant to his own ears.

 _Worthless_.

He shook his head suddenly, a single word echoing deep.

"Ron?" she stepped closer, concern flashing across her face.

He ignored her, resuming.

"Fair would be you having your parents back-"

She flinched.

"-Harry living a normal fucking life, us all eating bloody Hogwarts feasts every day. So, no. It's not fair. But it doesn't matter! Fair'd also prob'ly be me being honest with you, but why the bloody hell should I start now?"

"Honest…" she repeated, face softening.

"You don't need me."

She forced out a heaving breath.

"Says who?"

 _Good question._

 _Says… me._

She stepped closer, absently dropping her clothes to the sofa.

"Harry needs you, to finish it," Ron said.

"And he needs _you_."

 _They… don't need you._

"Stop taking care of me," he said sharply, abruptly tugging his loose cotton sling from his arm, ripping the fabric and tossing it to the floor.

"Ron, _don't_ -"

"You know why I think you don't want me wearing this?" He clutched the locket in his fist. "'Cause you think I'm weak. You've got to protect me."

"I want- Ron, I _want_ to protect you! That's not the same thing." Her eyes were welling quickly. He should stop.

He couldn't stop.

"You're not my mum."

"W-Why are you doing this?" she cried, tears splashing down her face.

He wasn't supposed to hurt her. He fucking loved her.

He shook his head. This wasn't him. The words he'd heard himself say stung his ears. Her vest was thin… too short. He wanted to touch her. He wanted-

She silently sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself.

 _She doesn't need-_

"I'm sorry…" he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

 _-you_.

She swiped an angry hand across her eyes, huffing out an impatient breath.

 _Go home. Leave them. Leave her._

"No…" he muttered, and his hand was suddenly on her face, brushing tears away swiftly.

She froze, holding her breath and his gaze.

"Need to make you feel… better," he said, almost under his breath.

She shivered, very visibly. It wasn't quite dark enough to hide the curves of her body from his eyes, hungrily finding her pulse point, tracing the outline of her neck, down the centre of her chest to the light blue of her vest. He dropped his hand away from her face, unsure.

"I… I thought maybe… we'd be able to figure each other out here," she almost whispered. "I'm so… Ron, I'm so _scared_. You think I know everything. Well, I don't. I got you splinched. We barely have a plan. Harry's scar is… I don't know if we can do this much longer."

"But we will, for him."

 _Who are_ you _? What can you offer that they can't find elsewhere, better-_

"Of course we will. But I just… if we could talk, maybe if we could…" Her desperation shined bright in her eyes. "I think you know how I feel."

"Show me."

She hitched a startled breath.

"What?"

"Show me."

 _You'll learn. You're nothing, nothing-_

He gripped her wrist, she exhaled an anguished whimper. What was he asking her, really?

His heart lodged in his throat. She leaned forward, tugged her wrist free from his grip, pressed both hands to his chest… kissed the corner of his mouth.

She dropped away from him as fast as she'd moved closer, but he couldn't let her go.

A rumbling growl rolled in the depths of his throat, and he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, ducking his head to press his mouth hard to hers. She squealed against his lips, tensing… before her arms flew around his neck.

All he could do was feel. There was a plague, inside, a darkness. But this… her lips, her hands on his chest, her warm body along the front of him...

What… the hell… was he playing at?

 _Least… you're the least._

He fisted a hand in her hair, drowning out the buzzing in his mind… opening his mouth to hers. She pressed her weight to him, unsteady on her feet.

She felt more incredible than he'd ever imagined. Pleasure coursed down his body, arousing him, her tongue tasting his bottom lip. He loved her. He loved-

 _I see… I see everything._

Not this. Please, please not this. This was _his_.

 _Mine._

"More," he mumbled against her mouth, and he only just realised she was shaking, furiously. They split apart, gasping in aching breaths, eyes roaming down each other.

Was it possible… could she want him? Could it be more than war and fear and desperation?

She reached for the hem of her shirt as he reached for his. They tore them over their heads, tossing them to the floor, meeting in the middle in a frantic haze of skin-to-skin, mouths colliding, one of her bra straps sliding off her shoulder as he dug his fingers deep into her hair. Her teeth clashed against his, and his erection pressed to her abdomen. He dropped a hand to her lower back, squeezing tighter, pressure increasing between them.

"Table," she panted into his mouth.

He took a step forward, pushing her back until her arse hit the edge of the rough wood tabletop.

 _You're afraid. I've seen it. I know._

He shook his head wildly, locket resting heavy on his sternum as he lifted her off the floor, to the edge of the table. A bolt of lightning shot through his injured arm, muscle tensing too tight. He grimaced, swearing nonsense under his breath. She gasped, reaching out for him.

"Don't use your arm! You'll hurt yourself more-"

"M'fine," he interrupted, moving in closer.

Her legs dangled over the edge of the table, one sock hanging off the end of her foot. But though she hesitated for a moment, brows knitted with concern, she dropped the subject and pulled him between her parted knees. Breathing in ragged gasps, she moved in for his lips again, teeth and tongues and hands in his hair. She grabbed his right hand, lowered it to her jeans zipper.

He pulled away from her, knelt immediately in front of her… She slid off the table again as he reached for her button, zipper… dragging it down. Her hands joined his, tugging denim off her hips, pooling to her ankles as she stepped out, clasping a hand around his neck as he looked up into her eyes. She ducked, claiming his lips as he held her, arms around her bare thighs.

 _Everything you want._

He had more than he deserved, just now. So much more.

He let her go, leaning in as he slowly stood, skimming the front of his half-naked body up her own until he reached her neck, sucking behind her ear as she arched back against the table again. He lifted her easily, hands under her arse, backing away again only to unfasten his belt, metal clanging as he worked his button and zipper free. She snatched his wand from his back pocket, but he hardly noticed. He'd lost some weight, evidently, out here… and his jeans slipped easily to the floor.

She tugged him between her legs with an ankle around the back of his thigh, aiming his wand over his shoulder.

"Accio," she said breathlessly, and her bag flew into her outstretched hand. She reached inside, withdrew a shiny potion vial, and downed the contents in one swallow.

Tossing everything, including his wand, carelessly to the floor, she reached for the elastic of his pants.

 _Mine._

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, fury boiling in his bloodstream. Sweat broke out across his chest, and he grabbed her hands away from his pants, tugging them down himself and kicking them aside, distantly registering her trembling gasp as he reached for her knickers, finding them completely soaked.

 _I know you. I know your dreams. She doesn't need y-_

"Goddamn you," he slurred under his breath, and she searched his face, uncomprehending. He'd have been glad she'd not understood him, had his pulse not been racing, watching as she adjusted atop the table to pull her knickers down. Shaking.

Shaking _too_ much.

He didn't have time to think about it, because she pulled him closer… too close, his erection between her legs, the perfect bloody height. She pressed a palm to the table behind her, ducked his head toward her, bit his ear lightly.

"Do it," she whispered. "If you want me, do-"

He clasped her hips in his hands and thrust inside of her.

She screamed, pulling his hair... _hard_. He winced with pain, pleasure simultaneously coursing through him, between them.

This is how it must feel for her, he reasoned, some rational part still left, trying to surface. Pain…

 _Pain…_

"Worthless," he muttered, burying himself completely inside of her.

Her face suddenly morphed from passionate and overwhelmed... to horrified.

 _She-_

"-doesn't want me."

"TAKE. IT. OFF." she shouted emphatically, pushing a hand hard to his chest.

His eyes bored into hers, heart pounding intensely against her palm.

She grabbed up the locket off his chest, closing her fist around it, eyes flashing from desire to mounting fear.

"RON. Take. it. off."

He wanted to obey, though a void cried out, distant. But he could fight it. He could still fucking fight, and he did.

He ripped the chain over his head… tossed the horcrux spitefully to the floor. And the room settled around him, suddenly quiet.

The only things he could hear, then, were the incessant beating of his heart and her unsteady breathing.

He pressed a trembling hand to the tabletop, gloriously free of that creeping, tempting darkness.

The words were lost. She brushed sweat-damp hair from his forehead.

"Don't stop now," she said softly, and he looked at her… _really_ looked. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She moved her legs, locked her ankles around his waist.

But it was too late.

"I… can't…" he half-sobbed.

He laid a hand gently on her thigh and backed away from her. Sniffing, he wiped the back of his hand across his face, suddenly very aware of how much his splinched shoulder was burning.

He bent, avoiding her gaze, and he retrieved her shirt from the floor, moving forward again only to hand it to her.

"I'm sorry. So fucking sorry."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Yep. That's it. This is fully AU now, I expect. Don't see how I can force this into canon, really. I had a lot of fun writing this crazy thing, so I hope you enjoy this conclusion. Live in some DH fantasies for a few minutes._

* * *

 **I (Don't) Need You  
Part Two**

He couldn't stop replaying what he had done. Not the words, though that was bad enough. The way he'd felt when she-

And he'd left because- because... God, it all seemed so distant, as if he'd been living someone else's life.

He listened to the sounds of the waves brushing in and out across the beach outside, but he couldn't find any peace here. It wasn't just the leaving, but the whole fucking mess he'd made. He recalled how close he'd been, mere months ago, to really believing there was something… mutual… between them. Now, he couldn't tell where to draw the line between truth and a cloudy haze of desperation, anger and fear.

And the maddening truth might have been that the locket, sick and twisted in his mind, had made it _remotely_ possible to face her, those days after he'd almost… shagged her. Jesus.

He felt his stomach lurch, and he shut his eyes tight. The list of things against him was much too long to forgive. But it didn't matter, anymore. He had to find them. He had to face it. He had to try.

* * *

The only thing he could do was pretend. Pretend it meant nothing. Pretend to be her friend again. Pretend the memories were as false and garbled as the words he'd been given, planted at the back of his mind by the sodding Horcrux. But now, days after he'd found them, by some fucking miracle, Harry was distant, quiet, unavailable.

And Hermione, as strange as it seemed, was simply ignoring him. Truthfully, he'd rather hear her voice, full of rage, her eyes flashing fire and blazing hurt. He could punish himself again in her stare. He couldn't quite do it alone.

It was dark and damp outside, yet frigid, warning that the dew would freeze to the earth overnight, locking the world in a moment in time, preserving the sway of brittle grass and gray branches. He warmed his hands with a breath and disappeared into silence a few metres from the tent entrance, through a ring of overgrown berry bushes.

"Lumos," he whispered, scanning the plants to determine if they were edible, ducking as he examined a cluster halfway down.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice came from far too close by, and he shot upright, staring at her over a hedge. She was wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, one that he tried very actively not to recognise as his own. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and he wished he could make out her expression in the dark, shadows splashed across her face from the backlight of their low burning fire.

"Thought maybe we could eat these," he explained simply, and she sighed.

"And you didn't hear me walking over? You're supposed to be on watch, aren't you?"

"You were fucking quiet," and he glanced further over the bushes to view her bare feet on the damp ground, "and you're not wearing shoes."

Her toes curled self-consciously but she otherwise ignored him.

"Yes, we can eat those," and she nodded toward the berries between them.

"There's a different kind, back here," he explained, gesturing to something she clearly couldn't see from her position.

"What's _your_ opinion?" she asked a bit harshly, and he wasn't at all convinced that an ounce of her cared what he would say.

"Prob'ly fine, but I didn't get a good look before you got here."

"Well, I'll leave you to it," and she started to turn away.

"Wait! Hermione."

She turned tiredly back toward him.

"What?"

"I don't know," he said, truthfully, because he hadn't planned what he would say next. "Dunno what to say. Just didn't want you to go back yet."

She sighed heavily and shook her head.

"It's cold out here."

"Sorry," and he noticed her shivering slightly.

"Let me see them, then," she suggested, not waiting for his response before trudging around through a gap in the bushes to stand next to him, hidden in the ring of overgrowth.

She ducked slightly, grabbing his wrist and directing his wand light toward the berry cluster he'd been examining when she'd approached. But the feel of her hand wrapping around him was too overwhelming to properly hear her assessment.

She must have finished, because she let go of him again, straightening to look up at him.

"Are you _listening_?" she asked, glaring.

But he couldn't be bothered with anything but the ache he felt, even stronger, now that she was so close, in the dark.

"Nevermind the berries," he said, swallowing. "I should say it again. I know you don't want to hear it, and I know you hate me now, but… I really am sorry."

She stiffened, probably holding her breath before she was able to respond.

"I just…" she managed to begin, "I can't believe you really _did_ it, and… and that you _came back_."

"Which one's less believable?" he asked, possibly against better judgment.

"I don't even know anymore."

He could see her eyes now, the light from his wand still glowing between them, her face turned toward the distant fire.

"But you know what's _worse_?" she asked, her sharply hushed voice tugging at his heart. "I thought you _cared_ about me, that it wasn't all just fear and- and bloody _hormones_."

His thoughts raced backward, and his chest clenched tight for what she must have thought, all those weeks.

" _What_? It wasn't!"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest again.

"Show me," she said, and for a moment, he thought she was actually asking him to. But then, she laughed, derisive and cold, and he remembered his words to her, _that_ night. " _Show me_."

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to say. There's nothing else, I-"

"You should have _never_ worn it so long. You should have _listened_ to me!"

"I know."

She scoffed madly at him and dropped her arms to her sides, drawing her hands into clenched fists.

"No! You just don't _get_ it!" she roared, and he blinked, startled but unflinching. "What was I left to think, after what we… what we _did_?! How long have I been holding back… and then for you to suddenly _be_ there, and we're _alone_ out here! I want to hear you say it, why you did that to me! And I get it - the locket, _the locket_ \- but Ron..."

She trailed off to nothing, seemingly too outraged to even form another word. He breathed slowly for a moment, willing himself to stay here, in this moment, drowning.

"Do I even have to explain that I took advantage of you?" he said quietly.

But, to his surprise, she took a violent step forward, huffing with pure frustration.

"Do you think I would have _let_ you take advantage of me if I hadn't wanted you to?!"

He hadn't misheard her, but, as usual, he was sure he'd misunderstood. He revelled only for a moment in the pounding of his heart.

"Not like that," he said, weakly. "Whatever you wanted, it wasn't that."

"You aren't allowed to tell me what I want."

The cold air around him rang with her words, softer than before and yet just as potent. He _wasn't_ , that was true. So, what _did_ she want? Or maybe he wasn't allowed to _know_ , anymore, either.

"It doesn't matter, anyway!" she continued, tears now building in her squinted eyes, but there was no real sadness, not yet. The hurt was still clouded in so much fury, and he was lost. Her eyes blazed up to his, meeting and not letting go.

"You only wanted me because you were wearing the damn Horcrux!"

It struck him, a bludger to back of his head. Of course. Of fucking course.

"Fuck, _that's_ what you thought," he said, almost under his breath, eyes wide and unmoving from her own.

She began to shake a bit, and he got the impression she was trying very hard not to blink, eyes too watery now to risk it.

He had to tell her _everything_. Now.

"The locket told me I was shit," he began, voice low and almost monotone, "that you didn't want me, that Harry didn't need me. I didn't really _know_ I was doing it, I _didn't_ … but that doesn't make it any better - I _used_ you to make it stop, to push it back and take control, only it didn't fucking work."

He paused to watch her, finding no reaction but a slight flail of her nostrils, cheeks and the tip of her nose bright red.

"I asked you to go first, to _show me_ ," he continued, "because I couldn't do it… if you really didn't want… if I'd been wrong. It was telling me every day that I didn't deserve you, that you preferred sodding Harry and anyone else that crossed my mind, and that I was worthless to you. And not _just_ to you and Harry… to my family, _everyone_."

He paused again as she moved, ever so slightly, her lips parting.

"The Horcrux didn't _make_ me want to be with you. That was all me. Has been for way too long. It was telling me the bloody opposite about what _you_ wanted."

Her breathing was the only sound that broke the stale silence, darkness closing rapidly as the fire behind him dimmed to glowing embers. She finally blinked, and two large tears rolled down her face, but she showed no signs of noticing.

"You should finish what you start, you know," she said, so softly.

"What?"

A sob escaped her, and she shook her head.

"You took the locket off, and then- then, you _couldn't…_ Why can't you understand?" She closed her eyes, tears running freely. But when she opened them again, anger had risen once more. "You really thought I was that desperate, that I'd _shag_ you just because we were alone, because I had no other options?!"

He winced, unable to call up any words to match her own. His only wayward thought was that he _wasn't_ her only option, because Harry had been there. But wasn't that only proving the point she was circling?

"No matter what happens, no matter how close I think we've gotten, it always gets bloody ruined! How is it even possible that we're further back now than we were before you snogged me?!"

He shook his head slowly, watching her anguished face as she took another step closer...

"And do you think I'd have let _anyone_ else touch me the way you did?!"

"I… I don't-" he started.

But he couldn't finish whatever he'd been about to say, which had even been a mystery to _him_ , because she was suddenly coming at him, groaning and raising her hands to shove him a bit roughly, and he stumbled slightly backward, narrowly missing an overbalance into the bushes behind him.

"Hermione, what-"

She moved forward again, grabbing his shirt and sniffing loudly.

"Stop being s-sorry," she said firmly, despite the break in her voice, and he froze as she moved to grip his hands, shaking as she tugged him to the ground to sit facing her. " _Please_ , Ron."

"You should hate me," he said, rolling back over her words, searching for the way he'd _thought_ she must feel, after what he'd done. Had he been so wrong?

"I do," she said, strongly, "for leaving. Not for the rest."

"I want to be sorry for that, too."

"But I want the _real_ you. Haven't seen him in months," she explained, edges of her voice still sharp, but something a bit too real was creeping in. He reckoned he'd never seen her quite as clearly as he did, just now.

She pressed her hands against his shoulders and shivered, pushing him back, but a bit of hesitance mingled in. Tears stung her fiercely and she let out a second frustrated groan, furiously wiping her face with both hands before crawling on top of him, straddling his lap as he lifted his hands mid-air, shocked.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, which he thought _he_ should have been asking _her_.

"Whatever you want me to," he replied, locking on her gaze and reminding himself to breathe.

"Was it _really_ youwho wanted me?" she asked, calling up a question he'd just answered moments earlier, but her voice trembled, and he knew she needed him to say it again. Tears rolled steadily off the edge of her jaw, and she hiccuped a breath.

"Told you. All me. Always has been."

"And… and now?" she asked, and he realised… anger had faded. There was nothing left, for now, but hurt and fear… and something he wouldn't name yet, something he'd have thought could be love if he'd not been too terrified to let himself call it that.

"Every second of every day," he said.

She didn't leave one full breath between his words and her actions. Both of her hands flew up inside the front of his shirt, bunching it up at his shoulders as she rested her palms a bit heavy on his bare chest. He sank back on the damp dirt, crumbly leaves, a twig digging into his shoulderblade, but he didn't care. She leaned over him, lips an inch away, but then, she froze, eyes searching his.

"This is it, for me," she whispered. "You _can't_ leave again, unless you stop me now."

He didn't need words to answer her. He shook his head, reached up, and wrapped a shaking hand around her neck, pulling her down the rest of the way to his mouth.

He felt everything more, so much more than before. It was only him, and her - no dark clouds, whispering voices… no haunting shadows of being _less…_ being nothing. She was here because she wanted this. There could be no other reason.

As she flattened herself on top of him, he felt her breasts through the thin cotton of _his_ shirt, the one she was wearing, pressing to his bare chest. With his right hand still wrapped around her neck, he reached for her waist with his left, discovering that his shirt had ridden up over her hips. His fingertips brushed her cool skin, and she sucked a breath through her nose, teeth grazing his bottom lip as she pressed a hand to his cheek. His hand slid around from her side to her bare back as his tongue met hers, a groan rising from his chest to their joined lips.

She stopped, abruptly, tugging her mouth away from his and sitting up on top of him, flushed cheeks his only indication now of how nervous she was. She tore her shirt up over her body, tossing it to the ground as he tensed underneath her, realising that although they'd gone much further than this before, he'd never seen her naked.

A bitter question rose up, and he focused on not voicing it… Would it have been like this if he'd stayed? The answer was as clear as the question, and he was filled impossibly with regret. But then she was crushing his mouth again, her bare chest sliding against his, the frozen night air seeming distant and mild in comparison to the heat between their bodies.

His hands were in her hair, smoothing down her sides, grazing the elastic of her knickers.

She pulled her mouth back from his, breathed in shakily, and sat up again, scrambling off of him as he pushed up on his elbows. Avoiding his gaze, she tugged her knickers off her hips and down her thighs, kicking them free.

" _Fuck…_ "

She reached for his jeans button, and his eyes fluttered with pleasure. But as her bloodshot eyes focused on her task, he shocked himself by still being grounded enough to think of his next question.

"D'you have more of that potion?"

"Been taking it every day this week."

He didn't have much time to register the implications of her response before she had loosened his jeans and was tugging them down with his pants. He sat halfway up and ripped his shirt off over his head, getting it out of the way just as she straddled his lap again, lips parted, and finally met his gaze, eyes round and reflective in the light from his wand, now lying on the ground beside him, still glowing.

Her face was coated in still-drying tears, eyes watery but no longer actively pouring. And her hair was a storm cloud, corkscrew curls electrified and twisting in every direction. Her skin, pimpled with gooseflesh in the cold… gorgeous. He was far too lucky, but he distantly registered that loving her as much as he did would always make him feel that way.

Her lips parted, and he did the first thing that came to mind as she bent over him, just a bit closer… He reached up, gently smoothing his hands across her cheeks to dry them. Her eyes slid shut and he brushed his fingertips beneath them. Her skin was cold, but her shuddering breath was warm on his hands as he moved them away.

Before he could figure what to do next, she lowered herself further on top of him, breasts on his naked chest again, and she kissed his jaw, open-mouthed. He tangled a hand in her hair, closing his eyes just before she stopped and sat up again, adjusting her position on his lap by pressing her palms to his stomach, eyes raking down his body.

His bare erection dug into her thigh, and she shifted on top of him.

"I should…" she sniffed, glancing up to meet his eyes before hers flicked away again.

She began to move down him, her face following the centre line of his body… chest to belly button…

"Do you mind?" she asked, in a voice far too innocent for what he was slowly realising she was about to do. She licked her lips absently, and he groaned. "It'll maybe hurt less, this way."

His stomach flipped as he comprehended she meant he had hurt her, before.

"God… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I told you to do it."

But her earlier question remained in her eyes as she looked up at him through heavy lashes.

"You can do anything you want," he said hoarsely, and she ducked her head almost immediately, planting her lips around him. Her tongue flicked out, and he clamped his eyes shut, forcing himself not to tug her hair too hard. " _Ohfuckinghell…_ "

It was over quickly, her very flushed face lifting shyly as she crawled back up his body, holding herself up again with her hands to his stomach.

"I…" He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but his voice caught in his throat… and she slid her hands higher up his body, widening her thighs as she lowered herself fully onto him, slowly.

"Oh, _God…_ " she shuddered, closing her eyes and swaying slightly as he gripped her hips in both of his hands, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek.

"Fuuuck,s'good…" he slurred, feeling slightly dizzy as her short fingernails raked over his nipples.

He reached up and squeezed her breasts in both hands, rolled her nipples between thumbs and index fingers, and she moaned, clutching his wrists. He was too overwhelmed to move, conflicted by the thought of hurting her more than he apparently already had, the last time. But she read his mind.

"I'm okay," she breathed, almost a whisper. "You can move." She leaned over him as his hands dropped back to her hips, her taut nipples brushing his chest as they shifted at the same time.

He wasn't going to last very long, though he suspected that might be for the best. She didn't seem to _mind_ anything about this, moaning airily into his ear, but she felt so incredibly tight around him that he wasn't sure if it could be completely comfortable for her either.

"Ermynee," he muttered through a mass of her tangled hair. She dropped her weight fully to his chest and shivered in a pleasurable way, and he had a strange suspicion she had liked the way he'd said her name…

As she wrapped a hand around his neck, parted lips pressing to the other side, he felt himself letting go, moving one hand up her back, the other down and over her arse. She exhaled in little bursts as they both moved once more, erratically shaking as he closed his eyes, surrounded by the feel and scent and lingering taste of her.

For a few short moments, he focused on the pounding of her heart against his ribs, the cold of the night returning as their pulses slowed.

And then, he felt the words returning, only this time, he knew he could say them out loud.

"You know I love you, yeah?"

She sat up, climbed off of him, and shifted up to kneel by his ribs, reaching down to hold his face in both of her hands, a wide smile spreading across her face.

"I do now," she said, blinking rapidly as she bent forward and kissed him again, soft this time, and so slow. "Love y-you," she whispered to his lips, as they parted once more.

The cold had reached her quite thoroughly, and her teeth were chattering. He sat up next to her and reached for the shirt she'd been wearing.

"Forgot I had this one with me," he said, shooting her a lopsided grin as he handed it to her.

"You didn't," she smiled, tugging it over her head and emerging, working her arms through. "I packed at the Burrow, remember? This shirt's been in with _my_ clothes all this time."

"You took one of my shirts, for yourself?" He watched her carefully, feeling another wave of foolishness pass through him. That wasn't the action of someone who only wanted to be friends, was it…

"You don't mind, do y-"

"No," he laughed, "you can have whatever you want."

He sat up on his knees to pull his pants and jeans up his legs, over his hips, stretching his stomach as he buttoned and zipped. Finding his shirt in a crushed pile of leaves, he stood, shaking it into the bushes and brushing it off sharply with his hand. She stood next to him, pulling on her knickers before hugging her arms around her own body for warmth. But seeing her there, after what they'd just done… he promptly dropped his shirt again and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tugging her tight against his bare chest.

She extricated her arms from between their bodies and circled them around his waist, breathing in deeply.

"D'you think Harry'll notice if I sleep in your bed?" he grinned, a sudden breeze blowing through the hedges around them. A storm was coming, a hint of snow or freezing rain.

"Doubt it… he's distracted," she said, pulling back from him enough to smile up at him. "But, if he does… he knows what we're all fighting for. And I'm pretty sure he knows exactly how I feel about you."

"He watched me stab a vision of you snogging him when I destroyed the locket, so I'm guessing he's got a pretty good idea about me, as well," he said, intending to sound light, because the memory was now as absurd a thought as any he had had before, in his lowest moments. But he'd forgotten she didn't know this detail, and her sleepy smile turned to a shocked stare.

"You did _what_?!"

"Yeah…" he trailed off, clearing his throat, "I realise that sounds fucking insane, now that I'm saying it out loud."

She shook her head slowly.

"What could have possibly made you think I felt anything like that for Harry?"

"Nothing, actually," he reasoned, as much with himself as with her. "Nothing either of you did, at least."

"I wish I could have explained to you… _everything_ , a long time ago."

"So do I." She released him and he picked up his shirt again, pulling it over his head. "Sort of irrelevant now though."

He grinned as she stepped a bit closer, bending down to retrieve his wand from the dirt. He took it from her, reached for a curl that had fallen forward, twisted over her eye… tucked it back behind her ear.

"Nox."

His wand went dark. She took his hand and they started back toward the tent, just as the sleet began to fall.

* * *

Dawn sparkled off the frozen landscape as they walked. Up ahead, Harry was rolling the snitch between his gloved hands, and beside Ron, Hermione reached up, pinching a clump of his hair between her fingers. She dropped her hand and held out a bit of crushed, dried leaf for him to see, smiling as she brushed it away to the ground, his blue eyes creasing at the corners as he grinned.


End file.
